


A Wild Goose Chase

by Maxumsurprise



Series: Timetales, woo-oo! [1]
Category: Disney Duck Universe, DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Canon Divergent, Multi, Mutual Pining, Rivals to Lovers, Slow Burn, Swearing, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2020-11-02 00:04:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20553830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maxumsurprise/pseuds/Maxumsurprise
Summary: Unfortunately, Gladstone Gander needs a job. Swept up into the TSM (time, space, magic) government department, suddenly Gladstone is faced with time travel, mysteries, and danger. Paris Whiskerings is a stubborn time travel agent who must learn to get along with the goose and make new beginnings, despite her troubled past. With an important time traveling device being stolen, enemies behind every corner, and an unexpected romance, what could possibly go wrong? (Cross-posted on tumblr @timetalesau)





	1. Gladstone

A bottle of Advil rattled to the floor, accidently knocked off its perch on Gladstone’s table. The gander winced at yet another unwelcome noise, a wave of pain barreling through his skull. Gladstone couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten a migraine, but of course this morning he had to wake up with one.

If that was the only thing that had gone wrong, maybe this day - no, week - could be salvageable. It was time to accept it. Gladstone’s luck had gone down the drain. The milk had been expired, the car had broken down, he was getting kicked out at the end of the month, and worse of all, Gladstone hadn’t found a 20 dollar bill all week. Living like this was preposterous. Gladstone could hardly go on. 

20 minutes later, the gander was sitting in a comfy leather chair across from his uncle, sipping nutmeg tea.

“A curse, you say?” Scrooge frowned. “I’m surprised it hasn’t happened sooner.” Gladstone let out a weak laugh. His uncle couldn’t know about him and Magica. There was no way. “Luckily for you, I have just the thing!” The older duck stood up and began rooting through his drawers with a passion, mumbling to himself under his breath. 

“Aha!” Catching the light from the window, a silver medallion on a chain was hoisted into the air. “I knew the blasted thing was around here somewhere. Wear this, Gladstone, and your luck will be back in the blink of an eye.”

“Sweet! Thanks, Uncle McMoneybags.” The silver was cold in Gladstone’s grip. He stood up, but was yanked back into the chair by Scrooge’s cane.

“Not so fast, lad. You have some explaining to do.” Gladstone’s stomach dropped.

“But Uncle Scrooge,” he whined, “I haven’t done anything!”

“That seems to be the problem. You don’t do anything. Ever. You just show up and mooch off the rest of us whenever it’s convenient for you. And you owe Louie an apology.”

“...what?”

“The last time I saw you, you put my family in danger - “

“ - which you do all the time - “

“ - hurt Louie’s feelings, and never even uttered so much as a thank you!”

“That doesn’t sound like me,” said Gladstone innocently. 

Scrooge sighed. “Do you have a job, son? You mentioned earlier your lease was getting up. Couldn’t pay for it?”

“No!” The gander lied. Gladstone hadn’t worked a day in his life, which he was very proud of. Who needed to when money dropped into his lap? But charming his landlord out of the last few months rent on top of his curse got him kicked out of his apartment.

“In any case, you owe me. I’m a reasonable man, Gladstone. I won’t ask much of you.” Scrooge sat down and met Gladstone’s gaze. “150,00, please.”

“You’re crazy, old man!” The younger fowl shouted. “What even for?”

“The medallion, of course!. It’s very valuable, and I adventured in the dangerous, dark, forests of Germany to get it.”

“Big deal! You almost die like, every day,” Gladstone said, leaning back in his chair.

“How’d you like a job?” Scrooge asked, drumming his fingers on the desk.

Shaking his head, Gladstone replied, “I’ve never worked a day in my life, and I intend to keep it that way.”

Scrooge shrugged. “You’ll just continue to be cursed, I guess. It isn’t my loss.” Rolling his eyes, the gander stood up again, clutching the chain tight in his hands. “No money, no fancy cars, no dinners at The Ritz or dates with models…”

“Fine!” Gladstone snapped, mostly to make his uncle shut up. “I’ll go be an accountant like Donald or something. Is that what you want me to say?”

“Don’t use that tone with me, young man. I happen to have a position for you - confidential, of course - and I happen to know for a fact I can get you the job.” 

Leaning forward in the chair, the goose said, “tell me more.”

“Well, I do happen to fund a number of organizations, as you know.”

“Actually, I don’t know.” Thinking about it, Gladstone really didn’t know that much about his Uncle Scrooge. Growing up, Gladstone lived with his Grandma Elvira and cousin Fethry. Although Della and Donald visited often, Scrooge rarely accompanied them. 

“Anyway,” the older duck continued briskly, “in the past, I’ve given money to the government in exchange to gain access to a particular department.”

“Is that allowed?” Gladstone asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Scrooge shrugged. “I suppose if it was such a problem, someone would have stopped me. Have you heard of the TSM wing?”

“The time travel one? That’s fake!”

“In that case, I’d like to know who I’m paying monthly, lad.”

“But...what do you get out of it? Reading files?”

At that, Scrooge looked slightly offended. “Actually, yes. And priceless artifacts, too. Things you couldn’t even imagine exist.A position opened up recently, and I think you should try out for it.”

“What would I be doing?”

“Uhh….” Scrooge frowned. “I’m not exactly clear on that, but I suppose you’d find out at the interview. Are you interested?”

“Can I have the medallion?” Gladstone asked.

“Pay me back for it,” said Scrooge. “And I’ll get you the interview.”

“I didn’t say yes.”

“You want your luck, don’t you? It’ll be a breeze.”

“Well…” Gladstone pondered for a moment. He did want to be lucky again, but work? He’d never worked! And yet, at the same time, it probably wasn’t much longer until something really bad happened that typically his fortune could save him from. He was backed against a wall here. Slipping the amulet’s chain over his head, Gladstone felt he was being submerged in relief like warm water, a weight lifting off his shoulders. Scrooge was right. His luck was back. “Fine,” he grumbled, “I guess. If it’s the only way.”

“It is,” Scrooge said. “Wear for a week, and don’t take it off before then.”

Nodding, Gladstone touched the chain. He would be fine. How long would it take to make 150,000 dollars? Besides, he was the luckiest duck in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends! I hope you all enjoyed chapter one. I'll try to update every week, but I'm not sure if that goal is realistic because I'm crazy busy with school. Follow @/timetalesau on Tumblr for updates and art!


	2. Gladstone

Gladstone stood on the sidewalk, hands in his pockets, gazing up at a brick building. Located in the old sector of Duckburg, it could have been built in the earliest part of the 1800s. 

The goose sighed, nerves pooling in his gut. Despite all the adventures he’d been on in his life, Gladstone couldn’t ever remember a time he’d applied for a job. Better late than never, right?

Tentatively, Gladstone lifted the heavy stone knocker and slammed it against the wooden door, wincing at the noise. 

Suck it up, Gladstone, he thought. This isn’t like you at all.

The door opened with a heavy creak, as if the metal hinges themselves were sighing. A small gray cat, splattered all over with freckles all over and big brown eyes peered out from behind it. Her dark blue hair was cut choppy bangs with a high bun, wearing a green sweatshirt, leggings, and wool-lined boots.

“Can I help you?” she asked in a bright voice with an Irish accent.

“Um-“ he cleared his throat. “I’m Gladstone. I’m here for an interview?”

The cat smiled, her whole face lit up. “Yes, of course! Mr. McDuck’s nephew. I knew you would be coming. Please, follow me.”

She turned on her heels, the door swinging open. Though she was short and stout, Gladstone had to trot to keep up with her bouncy strides. The interior was homey, plush rugs covering the floor and photos, vintage movie posters covering the brick walls. Bookshelves overflowing with all matter of novels and magazines had been haphazardly shoved into them were all over. Gladstone couldn’t keep track of every room in the big building that he passed, but he knew at some point he’d passed a kitchen and a room with a couch and tv in it. The pair made it down a flight of stairs into a chilly basement, pausing in front of a steel door. With a jingle of her keys, the small cat unlocked the door, leading into a white hallways lined with doors, fluorescent lighting, and a clean smell. Gladstone was reminded immediately of a hospital. He nearly bumped into the cat when she paused suddenly to open another door and walk into a small room. It was empty, save for a wooden desk. Two chairs were on the far side of the table, and one on the near. 

One chair on the farthest side was occupied by a Canadian goose staring down at his phone. His hair was messy and parted down the middle, and he wore green combat boots with chains on them. His outfit was complete with a white button up shirt, overlaid with a black t-shirt and wearing a bulky silver chain necklace.

“Felix!” The little Irish cat snapped. 

“Hm?” he looked up suddenly. 

Smiling again, the cat’s air of professionalism returned to her. “Gladstone, it’s my pleasure to introduce you to Felix, my coworker. I’m Connie, manager of TSM.” 

She sat behind the desk and looked down at a pile of papers. Felix put his phone away. 

“Please, sit,” said Connie. Gladstone did. 

The Canadian goose asked the first question. “What’s your previous job experience?”

“Uhhh…” Gladstone felt his face flush under his feathers. “This is really funny, actually. I’ve never had a job before.”

Felix started to giggle, but was silent under Connie’s icy glare. 

“My uncle didn’t tell you?” he asked.

“Oh...he may have said something about that, I suppose,” the cat replied with a nervous laugh. “I just didn’t think it was true!”

For an hour, Gladstone was interviewed thoroughly. Some of the questions were straightforward - what he considered to be his strengths and if he enjoyed teamwork - and other questions that didn’t seem to do with anything. Gladstone was asked if he knew how to cook, if he had life insurance, and if he was single. The goose had gone home after that. The next day, Connie called excitedly to tell him he’d gotten the job and could move in immediately. That was a few days earlier. 

Though he’d been accepted and completely moved in, Gladstone hadn’t met the last two members of the team. They were on a mission in the 1600s and were still, apparently, very busy. 

The first few days had been spent with Connie pouring over history textbooks and attempting to memorize a world timeline of broad events from the 1500s on. Gladstone often went to sleep exhausted, brain foggy from trying to recall everything. Even more mind bending was the concept of time travel, though Felix tried his best to explain it. Gladstone felt the other goose’s mind moved too fast for anyone to keep up. 

“Here’s how it all works,” Felix explained, suddenly animated, holding up a seemingly normal wristwatch. “We use wormholes. Tiny, tiny, little ones, in the face of the watch. One wormhole is permanently set up to be in this time period - modern times, if you dig that. The other ones get set to whatever time period you’re going to, and you’re instantly transported. The machine usually needs two hours of cool down time, which is to say, if you use it, it won’t work. Got that so far?”

Gladstone nodded. “Ok,” Felix continued on, “you set the biggest hand to the year, the second biggest one to the month, the third biggest day to the hour, and the smallest one to the minute.”

“How do I come home?”

“Just set everything to zero. You’ll return home, and the same amount of time will have elapsed.”

Gladstone frowned and scrunched up his beak. “Huh?”

“Say you were in the 1700s for three hours. When you come home, three hours will have gone by in modern times.”

“Makes sense.”

“Alright. So here’s the rules, and these are very important. Break any of these, and you’re out. Rule number one - never travel back before 1500. The machine can’t handle it, and I can’t guarantee you’ll come home. Rule two - change as little as possible. Stick to your mission. Never meddle in major world events unless you absolutely have to. Remember, anything you do there can affect us here. Rule three - don’t let anyone know you’re time traveling unless you’re talking to another TSM agent. Rule four - don’t go meet yourself, family, or friends, in the past. You’ll create a paradox. Just stick to all those rules, and you’ll be golden.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! I'm not quite sure about home travel would work, so if something seems drastically wrong, leave a comment. Come chat with me on Tumblr @/timetalesau


	3. Paris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paris comes home and finds a stranger in her kitchen. Sparks can't help but fly.

Paris was always happy to be home, especially after a month-long mission. Chamomile has gone with her to the French Revolution in order to make copies of some important documents before they were lost to time forever. Though the court had been glamourous, no amount of gold-glittering walls and immaculate gardens could make up for telephones or hot water. 

As usual, Paris landed in the basement of the building with Cham. All operations that had to be hidden from the public, such as time travel, file storage, or holding prisoners had to happen underground. 

The two girls filed the documents and locked them up, then walked upstairs. Cold metal gave way to warm, amber toned floors and brick walls.

“You’re home!” Connie shrieked, appearing around a corner as if out of nowhere. Chamomile embraced her sister in a tight hug. The two had the same stature and made the same expressions and even had the same molasses eyes, but had different colored fur and hair. Both had wavy hair, but Cham’s was long and brunette, fading into blonde. A small white stripe sat above her nose, matching her pale ears, hands, and underside of her little bobbed tail. She wore a long, flowy purple striped dress and jingling gold necklaces.

Paris stood by awkwardly until Connie hugged her too. “Everything’s stored away?”

Chamomile rolled her eyes. “Of course.”

“A lot happened when you both were gone-” Connie began.

“-is Felix here?” Paris interjected.

The black haired girl frowned. “We all love Felix very much, but I have some big news.”

Paris raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

“Did we get a dog?” Cham asked excitedly. Connie scratched behind her ear awkwardly. 

“The landlord still said no. Actually, it’s-”

All three girls froze as a boisterous crash resounded through the kitchen, followed by a pair of screams. Paris pushed ahead, ignoring what Connie was saying, and stepped into the smaller room. Felix was leaned over a cracked plate with his hands over his mouth. On the floor, blushing and trying to collect the tiny, shattered pieces, was an unfamiliar goose. A bright green overcoat with a shamrock pin was a stark contrast to his cream colored feathers. Black spats and a light green button up undershirt completed the look, but what stuck out the most was his honey blond hair, curled over on his forehead, and reminding Paris immensely of a Schaumrolle pastry. 

“It was my fault,” Felix rambled, but he was grinning. “Gladstone was trying to hand me a plate, but I dropped it.” He spied the newly returned agents. “Sweet! You’re back!”

Paris ignored his words and looked at the stranger, not unkindly. He lifted his head and for a moment looked into her eyes. The cat couldn’t help her face heating up under his mossy green gaze. Had she seen him before somewhere?

“Gladstone, meet Paris and Chamomile, two of our best agents,” Connie said with a grin. Paris looked away quickly. Gladstone stood up, smiling, and walked over to where they were standing. Cham happily shook his hand first, then he walked over to Paris and held out his hand. Nearly freezing up, extremely unlike her, she reached out and grasped his hand firmly. His fingers were long and nimble, lingering on her palm as she went to pull away.

“Nice to meet you, Catnip.” His voice was warm and thick, like honey. 

“Paris,” she said curtly.

Gladstone winked, and Paris felt her mouth go dry.

“You’re a medic, I hear?” he asked. “I know nothing about medicine. Maybe you could teach me how to take your temperature, because you’re looking hot-”

“Shut it!” Paris snapped, now embarrassed. Gladstone stepped back and held up his hands in surrender and Felix giggled.

“Alright, tough cookie.”

Connie crossed her arms. “Paris, apologize. That was rude!”

“Sorry, Mom.” The cat rolled her eyes. She could feel Gladstone’s eyes on her. How long had they been in the room together? Five minutes? Less? He made her nervous, in a butterflies in the chest kind of way. Paris hadn’t felt this way for a long time.

“Please apologize,” Connie sighed. “This isn’t worth the trouble.” 

There would be trouble, alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to put out, loves! I really hope it won't take another 2 months for the next one :(


	4. Chapter 4: Gladstone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't updated since last year! You guys know the drill :/

She was intense. That was the only way Gladstone could describe Paris. It wasn’t just her stare, which was odd enough with her mismatched eyes, (one green, one blue) but the way she carried herself. Tall, confident, with bangs that fell to the left over her blue eye and metal studded through both her ears. Her fur was mostly black, but patched with orange, and freckles smattered all over her body, standing out the most on Paris’s face. But mostly, she didn’t look happy to see him.

Gladstone studied her for a moment longer. The cat didn’t flinch at all under his gaze.

“So,” he started, clearing his throat to slice the tension in the room, “does anyone want to get lunch?”

Gladstone knew he should shut up now, but his mouth kept going. “Breakfast was a while ago. Connie, who’s cooking - “

Cham spoke up. “I’ll only be a moment, but I need to steal Connie away, actually.”

Connie widened her eyes. “What? I asked if everything was fine. You said it was!”

Felix quickly exited the room as the sisters began to bicker.

“Everything is fine! All I said was I need to talk to you!”

“You think things are fine, but they turn out to be a disaster! Remember when we were in the American Revolution and you lost the map? And didn’t tell me until we were halfway out of Philadelphia?”

“Do you want a bite to eat?” Gladstone offered to Paris. Might as well try to get on her good side. “I’ll pay.” The cat looked like she was actually considering the offer, but shook her head.

“I have to fix my truck.”

“Want help?” the goose asked, cringing. He never had fixed a truck before. In fact, Gladstone couldn’t remember even changing a tire, or washing a car by hand. No wonder Scrooge hated him.

The cat snorted, narrowing her eyes. “Would be too hard for you, pretty boy. Might mess up your hair.” She walked off into another hallway. 

Connie and her sister were now shouting at each other, so Gladstone took his leave as well, bumping into Felix as he walked to his room.

“Sorry, man,” Felix giggled. “Sorry, that just - I’m surprised she didn’t bite your head off back there.”

Gladstone frowned. “Paris?”

“Yeah.” The smaller goose started fiddling with his chain necklace. “She’s a tough chick, is all. I’ve seen her punch men out for hitting on her.”

“I didn’t know.” Gladstone winced. Puffing up his chest, he quickly added, “I can’t remember the last time I got shot down.” That was a lie. Her name was Matilda. Or Magica. And the last time they met, they were both still mad. 

Grinning, the brown goose shook his head. “Whatever you say, bro.”

“It’s true!” he leaned in closer, Felix raising an eyebrow. “I’m lucky.”

“Sure, man, we all are.”

“No, really. Do you know how many casinos I’m banned from?”

“You cheat?” Felix asked.

Gladstone shook his head. “Not at cards.”

“On games?”

The white goose sighed. “No, like, on women.”

Felix cringed. “Why are you bragging about that?”

“It’s a joke.”

“Good one.”

Thinking quickly, Gladstone blurted, “let’s go out. We’ll play pool. Loser buys drinks.” To his relief, the dark haired fowl nodded and grinned. Good save, Gladstone congratulated himself. And he’d get a night of free drinks!

\--

Gladstone hadn’t remembered setting an alarm. His luck always woke him before he overslept. Why was something blaring? He sat up and rubbed his eyes, jostling the girl in bed next to him. Vaguely, he remembered bringing her home last night and complementing her hair, which apparently had just gotten trimmed, and how nice of him it was to notice - wasn’t Felix there? Felix. Work. The alarm Connie had warned him about was going off.

Stumbling to the floor, Gladstone quickly put on his robe and grabbed his phone.

“What the fuck?” the girl asked, burying her head under a pillow.

“Um - we’re under attack.” That was why the alarm went off, right? Or if something was stolen.

“What? Who?” 

“You should get home,” he said as kindly as he could.

The girl’s eyes widened. “You’re sending me home and we’re under attack?” Someone knocked on the door. “At least pay for my Uber!”

Gladstone pulled open the door to see Chamomile wearing an elaborate dressing gown that nobody should be sleeping in. “What’s happening?” he demanded. 

“Something’s missing,” she fretted. “The alarm went off just now. Someone broke into the lab!”

“Who?” Gladstone asked.

“Well, they were smart enough to cut the security cameras, so we’ll never know,” she shrugged.

“Gladstone!” Connie snapped, appearing out of nowhere, joined by Paris who was balancing a mean rifle on her shoulder. “Take that poor girl home!”

“It wasn’t me!” the girl wailed, frantically pulling on her coat.

“Obviously,” Paris huffed. “You wouldn’t have had time to break the cameras, pick the lock, steal something, and get back in bed while…” she raised an eyebrow. “Disrobed.”

“Everyone to the lab,” Connie commanded. “Except Gladstone. Please call her an uber.”

Fifteen minutes later, Gladstone won a free ride for ordering his 100th car, and he joined the rest of TSM in Felix’s lab.

Like all the other important offices, it was in the basement, behind another nondescript door. Each door had a keypad, with each combination differing from room to room, and a lock for good measure. It looked like the keypad had literally been popped open, the front piece on the floor and the wires a tangled mess. The lock was broken as well.

Cham was taking fingerprints, dusting around the handle and lifting the prints with tape. Felix was typing on one of the many computers in the room. Paris and Connie were chatting, looking down at the gray, metal cabinet where the time machines lived, each already on a strap to be worn. The lock on those had been undone too.

“They took a time machine?” Gladstone asked, walking up to the girls.

“Great detective work, genius.” Paris rolled her eyes. He’d never seen eyes like hers before. They were mesmerising.

“We’ll have to keep an eye out in all our bases in the past,” Connie sighed. “Oh, that reminds me! Paris, since you don’t have a partner for missions at the moment, it would be fantastic if you would train Gladstone!”

Paris’s eyes widened. “Huh? You’re telling me this now? It’s the middle of the night!”

“I don’t mind,” the goose offered diplomatically.

“You wouldn’t,” she snarled.

“Paris! Attitude!” Connie scolded. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Gladstone narrowed his eyes.

“It means,” Connie said in forced cheerfulness, “you’ll be seeing each other at seven o’clock sharp tomorrow morning.” She smiled. “Chin up, you two. You’ll learn to get along."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come vibe with me @/timetalesau on Tumblr! Also we just started the arc of the plot in this fic finally, lol


	5. Chapter 5: Paris

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at me, updating for the second week in a row! Hope I can keep it up lol

“Fifteen minutes late,” Paris said. She didn’t look up from her mug of coffee, but she could tell from the soft footfalls in the kitchen doorway that Gladstone was standing there.

“Huh?”

“Connie said to get here at seven. It’s seven fifteen.”

The goose rolled his eyes. “Sorry you lost fifteen very valuable minutes. I’m sure I can make it up to you,” he mocked.

“Today was just training. If we were on a mission, fifteen minutes could mean life or death. When I was in the army, I got screamed at and had to clean the toilets when I was late.”

“Point taken,” Gladstone groaned. “I’ll never be late again, Catnip.”

The nickname caught her off guard for a moment. How long had it been since someone called Paris something sweet?

“Don’t call me that.” She stood up and pushed in her chair. “Eat something. And fast. I’ll meet you in the training room when you’re done.”

The training room was surprisingly not in the basement. It was in the same wing of the old building as the library, sick bay, and the dressing room, full of outfits that covered the 1500s to ten years ago. Inside, the walls were padded and punching and speed bags hung from the ceiling. A few weapons were stored in heavy duty cabinet units, but they were for sparring and not painful to be hit with. The real swords and firearms were stored separately in the basement weaponry room.

Paris was wrapping her hands so she could start boxing with the bags when Gladstone sauntered in. “So, what are we doing? Am I going to shoot something?”

“No. You need to learn how to punch before you do anything else.”

“I know how to punch,” the goose grumbled.

Paris raised an eyebrow. “Do you though? When’s the last time you’ve been in a fight?” He looked perfectly manicured, down to the feather. She couldn’t imagine him bruised and bloodied.

“Uhh…” Gladstone scratched the back of his neck. “Recently?”

“...Right,” Paris said, doing a shoulder stretch. “I’m sure that went well for you.”

“You know, it actually did. I won.”

“Great. Wrap your hands. You can use the one on the floor.”

“I, um -” The goose looked up, meeting her eyes. “I’ve never done that before.”

“Are you seriously asking me to - “ Paris rubbed her temple. “Right. Give me your hand. Are you right handed?”

The goose nodded, holding out his right hand. The cat started on his knuckles, trying not to look at his face. Gladstone was warm, with soft, steady hands that didn’t shake. 

“What kind of medic goes around punching people, anyway?” he asked, grinning. Paris made the mistake of looking up at him, hit with his charming easy-going grin. Quickly, the cat finished wrapping up. 

“I wasn’t always a medic. When I signed up for the army, I was a sniper.” She had been good, too - until she lost her nerve. “The doctor stuff is easier.”

“How is it easier?”

“I’m just good at it.” Paris let go of his hand. “I’ll start the other. Next time, you’re doing this yourself.”

“Alright, Catnip.”

“Don’t call me that.”

-

“Try it again,” Paris instructed. “You’re getting tired and sloppy.” Gladstone hadn’t excelled in punching. His aim was alright (especially without trying), but it didn’t seem like he cared. At all. The cat thought he might be better with a sword.   
Gladstone smirked. “I can get sloppier.”

“Cut that shit out,” Paris snapped, trying not to blush. “What’s your plan? Sweet talk your way out of a swordfight?”

“Think it would work?” the goose asked, swinging the weapon in front of him. 

Paris jabbed her sword hard into the dummy, Gladstone’s eyes widening in surprise. “No.” Forcefully, she pulled it back out. “I’m going to take a shot at you. Your job is to block it with your sword.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

He picked up his weapon, holding it in front of his face like it was a lifeline. Paris took one good swing at him, thrusting her arm forward hard and letting the metal blades clash together. To her surprise, Gladstone pushed back, not letting her unbalance him. The cat pressed down harder with all her force, watching in mild surprise as Gladstone stumbled back and flailed to the ground. That all would have been fine, but Paris went down with him, letting out a shriek of surprise as they tumbled down together, swords clattering on the ground. Gladstone whimpered, rubbing his head. Embarrassingly, Paris had landed uncomfortably straddling his waist, unable to not look at his face as he panted, hair disheveled.

“Shit!” She stood up as quick as she could, trying not to think about the look in his eyes. Gladstone sat up, wincing a bit. 

“I hit my head.”

“Go ice it. Tomorrow, we’ll work on keeping you standing.”

“I can go?”

Paris nodded. “Yeah.” She knew she wouldn’t be able to focus, anyway. They had just been too close, too fast...even if she did feel sparks fly. 

The goose stood, dusting himself off calmly. “I guess you could say you fell for me,” he said with a wink.

“Leave!” Paris snapped harshly.

“Look, I didn’t mean to…” he said, trying to meet her eyes.

She didn’t answer, now scooping up the swords. 

“Ok…” he quietly left, Paris sighing in relief when he closed the door behind him. What the hell just happened?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come vibe with me on Tumblr @/timetalesau


	6. Chapter 6: Paris

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long lol

“Would you like to help me knead the bread?” Chamomile asked, as if she were offering a reward.

“Huh?” Paris looked up from her phone. The pale brown cat was covered up to elbows in flour, pressing the dough over and over on the wooden cutting board. “Do we need bread?”

Cham shook her head. “I’m delivering it to our sponsors today. I have a couple loaves to make.” She grinned. “Fresh butter and jam, too.”

“That’s deskwork?” the calico snorted.

“I do paperwork sometimes.” Paris doubted that. She’d seen Chamomile at her desk buying tropical fish online, drying her hair, and knitting while watching Ottoman Empire.

“Do you need a ride?”

The other cat’s eyes lit up. “You’d let me drive the truck?”

“Whoa,” Paris warned, “no, I’ll drive you.”

“It’s a nice day out, so I don’t mind biking. I’m going up to McDuck Manor and then I’m headed to City Hall.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Speaking of McDuck manor…” the brown cat smiled. “How’s Gladstone?”

Paris frowned. “How should I know?”

“You’ve only been training him every day for a week!” 

Shrugging, the calico looked back at her phone. “So what? He’s not really… I mean, he has good aim and picks shit up quickly. Gladstone never seems to get hurt. First aid has been a slog, though.” Vividly, Paris remembered the goose whining about blood and needles, paling at even discussing broken bones. “How’s Gladstone related to McDuck anyway?”

“He’s my mother’s brother’s brother-in-law,” a clear voice rang out from the kitchen doorway. In stepped Gladstone, perfectly coiffed and immaculately dressed as always.

Paris jumped. “Don’t fucking do that!”

The goose smiled, baring pointed teeth. “Scare you?”

“Tell your mother’s brother’s brother-in-law I’m bringing bread,” said Chamomile, now bringing a loaf to the oven. 

-

“Gladstone, you’ve grown a lot this past week,” Connie smiled, looking at the goose in front of her. “This is urgent, but…”

Paris frowned. Much to her surprise, the little gray cat called both her and Gladstone into her crowded, stuffy office an hour into their training session. She had no idea why. 

“I’ve been tied up here, as you know, and Cham and Felix are doing the heavy lifting. So, I’m going to have to ask you both to perform your first mission together!”

“You didn’t ask me,” Paris interrupted. “I’m the one training him.”

“I can speak,” Gladstone grumbled. “I think I’m ready. You said my punches got better.”

“Barely. The only thing you did differently was start trying.”

“I haven’t fallen on you since our first lesson,” he pointed out. Paris hated how her face flushed. 

“Do you want a medal for that?”

Connie cleared her throat. “As I was saying.” She turned her computer monitor to the pair. “It’s so simple. It’s a retrieval and you won’t have to time travel.”

“Where are we going?” Gladstone asked politely.

“You’re staying here,” Connie said, “it’s a jaunt down the block, really. Do you know Flintheart Glomgold?”

“Uncle Scrooge hates him!” Gladstone blurted out.

“Right. We have an inside source telling us that he has a cursed dagger, probably because he thought it would give him an edge over your uncle.” Connie nodded at the goose. “Obviously, he has no idea how to use it and will end up hurting himself. We’ve seen this before. You two need to sneak into Glomgold’s house and bring it back here so we can uncurse it. Sound like something you can do?”

-

“Follow my lead. Don’t do anything stupid,” Paris instructed, wiggling a paperclip in the lock of the backdoor of Glomgold’s big, guady, house. No one was home, as described by Felix’s research (which consisted of looking up Glomgold’s company's business hours).

“You have nothing to worry about,” Gladstone promised. “I’ll stay out of your way,” he said.

“No, stay in my way.”

“That’s a first,” the goose smirked.

Paris was about to retaliate, but the lock snapped open, the metal hissing against itself. 

Glomgold’s house was just as expensive and flashy as it could possibly be. Useless, cheap looking trinkets were scattered everywhere, but what really concerned Paris were the security cameras. She didn’t know the locations of all of them, but she did know the protocol. 

“Felix said the knife is in the gallery room to the left,” Gladstone said, looking around mildly impressed. 

“Great. Hand me the spray paint.” Due to Felix’s careful calculations, they were standing under a blind spot. Gladstone opened up his utility jacket and tossed Paris the can of black paint. Quickly, the camera was rendered useless.

The goose trotted ahead as the cat finished up, much to her annoyance. “Didn’t I tell you to follow me?” she asked. 

He rolled his eyes, saying, “chill! Felix already told me where all of the cameras are.”

“He also mentioned traps, some kind of laser grid security, and I don’t think you’ve ever gone through one before.”

Gladstone looked at Paris over his shoulder. “You have no idea what I’ve gone through, cat.”

-

“So, we just lift this up?” Gladstone asked, prodding the glass case that homed the dagger, seated on a pedestal. 

Paris nodded. “Careful, though. We have no idea what it will trigger.”

“What, an alarm? Big deal! Glomgold isn’t even home. Besides, if the police are called, we’re on their side.”

“Actually, if you’d paid attention to Connie’s lecturing, you’d know we don’t work with the police. The work we do is much more complicated and dangerous.” Paris placed her hands on either side of the case, Gladstone rolling his eyes and stepping aside. “And it would be a good idea to get in the habit of not getting caught.”

Holding her breath, the cat gently picked it up, glass smooth under her hands, just tall enough for a hand to slip under. “Grab it by the handle and put it straight in the bag.” For once, Gladstone was silent, sliding it out in concentration.

“Piece of cake,” he grinned. Paris was more concerned, looking behind her. Just as she had expected, the room was criss-crossed with lasers slanting up and down.

“Just like a movie,” the goose commented.

“Right,” Paris said, already mentally mapping her path to the exit. She couldn’t help but wish Chamomile was there, the other cat being nimble enough to quickly skip over.

Boredly, Gladstone was striding forward. “Stop!” Paris cried. “What are you doing?”

“Uh, walking?” At that, he began walking backwards. 

Urgently, Paris leaned forward to grab him, suddenly reminded of when she and the goose had toppled over each other and onto the floor. Her fist closed on a sleeve, Gladstone instinctively stepping back and in a stroke of terrible luck, stumbled back, taking Paris down with him.

“Shit!” For the second time, Paris was on the floor, straddling his waist. 

“We really have to stop meeting like this,” he joked. Paris stood up too fast, head spinning. It took her a moment to realize alarms were blaring from all sides.

“Follow me!” Gladstone yelled. “I wish we would find an open window!”

“What?” Paris asked in confusion, but didn’t have time to answer as she kept up with the goose. Escaping the gilded room, she spotted an open window, large enough to hop out of and tall enough for her to fit. Gladstone vaulted out first, crashing into some bushes. Paris jumped after him, finally feeling the ground underneath her boots. The sirens were still going off, but there was no time to disarm them. Not looking back, Paris ran to the street and her truck. 

“We made it,” she gasped, slamming the door as the goose slid into the passenger seat. 

He immediately began fixing his hair in the rearview mirror. “Pretty lucky, huh?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was cringe. Come fail with me on tumblr @timetalesau and on my main, @Undertelevisionskiess


	7. Gladstone

Gladstone had never worked before, and never thought that he would consistently. Every night, he collapsed into bed exhausted. Tonight was no exception after the mission with Paris. He wasn’t even worried that he would get caught - his luck would always protect him - but what was concerning was the way Paris has fallen on him, again.

Gladstone had a type, he always had. Pretty, tall, sugar-sweet blonde girls. Paris was intense and short, something always bristling under the surface. Nothing about her was soft or welcoming, and yet he couldn’t stop replaying the weight of her body, the almost terrified look she had, vulnerable beyond belief. Part of him wondered what lay underneath, but the other part warned him to stay away, having seen how Paris had lashed out. But Gladstone was a gambler by nature - he would always take a risk. He just had to figure out what hand to play.

\- 

Gladstone woke up on the floor, heart galloping. Nearly fearfully, he touched his head, half-expecting blood as he attempted to reconstruct his nightmare. Something about his parents, probably, his mother, most likely. Gladstone couldn’t shake the memory of Daphne being loaded onto an ambulance, his father still in a stretcher. As if in a dream, there was a brief knock on the door. Slowly, he stood up, expecting to see Daphne on the other side, a warm smile on her face. 

“I heard a thump,” said Paris, looking ruffled with restlessness. 

“Yeah,” Gladstone muttered, rubbing his head. “Nearly cracked my skull open like an egg.”

Paris cringed. “Gross.”

The goose leaned against the doorframe, feeling bold in the silence, though still rattled. Getting into bed with a pretty girl was the perfect cure for a nightmare. “Wanna come in?”

“Ew,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “Who do you think I am?”

“...the medic?” Gladstone ignored her snappy tone.

“Fuckin’ right, pretty boy,” she said, glancing at his curlers. “Go to sleep.” Paris closed the door and slipped away into the dark of the hall.

The goose leaned his back against the door, closing his eyes and sighing. What had he done wrong this time? He knew it shouldn’t let her get under his skin with rejection, but Gladstone felt like there could be more to it. Girls liked him! He strode to the bed and peeled back the sheets to get back on his phone. 

-

Hours passed in sleeplessness. By this point, the sun would be rising soon and Gladstone had only a few hours of sleep to show for it. He had grown bored with his twitter feed and youtube. When he was a kid and couldn’t sleep, he would wake up Daphne. Unlike his father, she never got angry, just led him to the kitchen and made a warm drink.

Quietly, he plopped his feet on the floor and padded down the hall. Most of the bedrooms were located in the same wing, the exception being Connie, who had a smaller room close to her office. Gladstone noticed the light was still on in Felix’s room, being filtered under the crack of the door.

Once in the kitchen, Gladstone removed a mug from the cabinet and poured milk in it. Sleepily, he tried to remember whether his mom put the honey in before or after the drink was warmed. From the living room, he could faintly hear the buzz of the TV and smell a cigar. After his drink was mixed, Gladstone curiously picked up the mug and stepped in the room. Paris was sitting on the couch, smoking, while Ottoman Empire played.

“Those things will kill you, you know.”

She turned her head to look at the goose. “My mother used to say the same thing.” Paris paused, blowing out a ring of smoke that had Gladstone oddly hypnotised. “Can’t sleep?”

“Can you?” he asked, the cat rolling her eyes. 

“Nah, I have a hard time sleeping. This is an old house. It settles too much.” Secretly, Gladstone doubted that, but said nothing to the matter. “What are you drinking?”

“Oh, just something my mom used to make. Milk, honey, and cinnamon. She used to make it all the time as a kid.”

“My dad used to make tea,” Paris said. “He got home late every night, and I’d hear him making it when he got in.”

“What did he do?” Gladstone asked cautiously, expecting her to tell him to go to bed now.

“He was a detective,” Paris answered.

The goose took a seat beside her. “My dad owned a restaurant,” he offered.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. I don’t know if he even cooked, though. He was a hardass.”

“Explains why you can’t cook,” Paris grumbled, taking another drag off the cigar.

Gladstone opened his mouth to retaliate, but didn’t have the chance as the alarm split overhead. 

“What the fuck?” The cat stood up fast, marching off before Gladstone could say a word. Another intruder? He knew last time, the lab had been robbed. Could it be hit again? 

Instead of going after Paris, he ran down the hall. “What’s going on?” he heard Felix ask, but didn’t stop to answer. Skidding around a corner, Gladstone made it down the stairs to the lab. This time, the lock looked secure. Someone must have gone in through the window. 

“I have the key!” Connie yelled. Gladstone stepped aside to let her work on the door, watching as it was pushed open. Though he couldn’t be sure, Gladstone thought he glimpsed a leather-coated clad figure hurriedly trying to exit through the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took awhile for no good reason but it's here anyway. Talk to me on Tumblr @Timetalesau and stay safe!!


	8. Paris

Paris hurried into the lab, clutching her little silver handgun. She knew she’d lost valuable time rushing back to her room to grab it, but she had no choice. Yelling erupted from the open door and Paris arrived in time to witness someone trying to climb out the window. Gladstone took a step forward, as if to stop him, but Paris was faster. The cat fired a warning shot above the intruders head, which landed and stuck into the wall.

“Come here,” Paris said, lowering her gun. “I won’t shoot if you come here.”

He was shaking, turning around with both palms facing towards her. He looked so young, early 20s? - and was wearing an aviator’s coat with flight goggles around his neck. No outfit for a thief.

“It’s ok, lad, just give back what you stole, and you can go,” Connie soothed, not specifying that she meant to the police. The young man gulped, stepping forward. “Hands up,” she instructed, frisking him for weapons. 

“What happened to my lab!” Felix shrieked as he entered the room. 

“Someone is an admirer of your work, Felix,” Connie said, holding up a watch she had discovered. The goose quickly took it back, fretting at the glass face.

“Got a gun off him,” the gray cat added. “Cham, go secure this, please.” Paris hadn’t even remembered Cham coming in. “Paris, please direct this young man into a questioning room. Gladstone and I will be there in a minute. Would you mind terrible fixing this window up?” 

“Don’t have a choice,” Paris said. “Come on. It isn’t far.” Once the kid was in the room, looking at the bare walls glumly, she slipped out and started to gather the window supplies. Starting to sweep up the cracked pieces, her mind began to wander. Had Gladstone ever done an interrogation before? He was too soft. Not soft, not even stupid, just careless with everything. Money, clothes, girls… not that the girls mattered. They were always out by morning. Mostly. Either way, Paris decided, he’d screw up. Even if he hadn’t yet. Maybe, if she was lucky, Gladstone would leave and she wouldn’t have to see his smug, handsome face every day. 

Paris had been single for a while. She wasn’t good for relationships, or staying put, or her emotions. Gladstone was too careless and her too nervous for anything to work, even in her fantasies. Paris cursed as she sliced her finger on a loose shard of glass, noting Connie silently entering the room.

“How’s it going?”

“Clearly his first robbery. He’s crying the whole time. The only one he wants to talk to is Gladstone.”

“Gladstone?” 

“Of all people! Geese of a feather flock together,” Connie smiled. She glanced toward the blood on the floor. “Felix’ll kill you if you don’t wipe that up.”

“Sorry, Mom.” Paris rolled her eyes. “Do they only want to talk alone?”

“Yes, I suppose I’m rather intimidating.”

“Clearly.” A middle aged cat was the last thing Paris would find threatening. “Gonna help me mop up?”

“I actually have to talk to talk to Cham. We have another meeting with Lady Whitewater tomorrow, and this time I want everyone to come. It’ll be Gladstone’s first time traveling mission, at any rate. Think he’ll like it.”

“Oh, sure.”

“Connie?” Both cats turned towards the doorway where Gladstone stood, looking more afraid than Paris had ever seen him, wringing his hands.

“What’s wrong?”

“So, good and bad news. Which do you want first?”

Connie actually looked conflicted.

“The bad news, idiot!” Paris snapped.

“Our, um, the prisoner - is that the right word? Is gone.”

“Gone how?” Paris asked. “Connie took all his weapons!”

“It’s actually a complicated situation.”

“How so?”

“I know him,” Gladstone said quietly. “I mean, I think. Hey, isn’t it a paradox if you meet someone from your past but in the future? Future for them but present for me?”

“I don’t have time for this,” Paris scowled, leaving the room with Connie in her heels. “How did you lose him?”

“He wasn’t committing a crime!” the goose yelled. “Yes, he was stealing, but he needs to get home! He’s lost and scared!”

“And you thought the best course of action was to let him go, instead of letting us help?” Connie asked.

“No, he has someone he’s going to talk to who can help.”

As Gladstone has promised, the room was empty. Paris closed her eyes for a minute, a headache from the loss of nicotine hitting her. She missed smoking, having something to do with her hands - focus.

“What was the good news you mentioned?” the Irish cat said with a stiff smile.

“I have nephews,” Gladstone began. “My cousins kids.”

“Obviously!” Paris snapped.

“It’s one of them, but from the future. Or, another world? Does that make sense?”

“How is this good news?” the calico asked. 

Gladstone shrugged. “We know who it is. That’s a good lead. Anyway, before you ask, he’s going to meet my Uncle Scrooge.”

“You let him leave? Good God, he’s going to cause a paradox! They can’t meet!” Connie said.

“He ain’t armed, right? He’s a scared kid alone in a city where he don’t belong, no resources, and no one that would know and believe him. He can’t go far. At least, not that far,” Paris thought out loud.

“Uncle Scrooge’s house is gated. He just might not get in,” Gladstone offered. 

Connie sighed. “I’m calling the police and telling them to keep an eye out. Gladstone, call your uncle and tell him that there’s someone parading around as his nephew that he cannot let in his home. Paris, finish the window. Tomorrow night, we’re going to Daweson. Me and you two. Felix can actually try to guard his lab, for once. Goodnight.”

“Night,” the goose said, watching the gray cat stalk away, only showing her anger in her posture. 

“You let him go. He was in the room with you.”

“He’s my nephew, Paris. I know I can’t help, but Uncle Scrooge can. I don’t want him stuck in some cell for an accident.”

“An accident,” she deadpanned. “You accidentally let him walk out the door.”

“Cham could have stopped Dewey at the front.”

“Dewey, huh?” Gladstone shrugged. 

“Hey, do you think I’m gonna get fired?”

“I ain’t firing you, why the Hell would I know?” For a moment, Gladstone actually looked hurt, but quickly maintained his composure. “No,” Paris sighed, feeling disgusted with her guilt. “Connie understands accidents. I’ve screwed up worse and she’s never done it. Just...don’t do it again. This Dewey kid ain’t high risk, so it could have been worse.”

“Ok. Thanks, Paris,” he said, leaving the lab. Finally, peacefully, alone, she continued to sweep glass and replace the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One day late, but it's here! Come talk to me on Tumblr @Timetalesau and @Undertelevisionskiess


	9. Gladstone

“1851. The Gold Rush is in full swing. Miners from all over America, and beyond, are flocking to California to strike it rich. Coloma, Placerville, Dawson, all benefited from the boom, and legendary businesswoman Sophia Whitewater began work on mastering time travel, seeing as Dawson suddenly became a hub for accidental time travellers. You see, for some reason, Dawson in the gold rush became a common location for -”

“Ok, Connie,” Paris sighed. “I think he gets it.” 

Gladstone nodded at her. “I won’t blow our cover, I promise.” He’d never time travelled before, and the prospect would have been daunting if he was alone. Though Felix and Cham were staying back, Connie and Paris would be with him. Everyone had to be in period dress, according to policy, and Paris was even wearing a wig, which at this point Gladstone knew better than to laugh at, especially since he looked silly in a stiff, mothball smelling suit. Yeah, definitely not his style. At least he preferred a little color, and this ensemble had none. 

“Everyone ready?” Connie asked. “Set your watches to Dawson!”

Gladstone didn’t bother to double check that he’d done it right. Instead, he pressed the button to start the process. That was when everything went wrong. The air from his lungs and all around him was sucked away, as if in a vacuum, and overwhelming nausea took over. Everything was spinning in a whirl of blurred colors. Gladstone could have been travelling for seconds or hours. It didn’t matter. Just as it began, everything stopped, and Gladstone stumbled, surprised to feel something solid under his feet. Gasping for breath, he leaned against the wooden side of a building, shaking. He didn’t think his head had ever hurt so bad.

“The first time is always the hardest,” Connie said sympathetically, checking her reflection in a little pocket mirror. 

“Alright?” Paris asked from somewhere close. Gladstone turned his head too fast, coming face to face with her. 

“Never better,” he said, still gasping.

“You can still feel all your limbs, right?”

The goose laughed nervously. “I should hope so!”

She stepped back, and finally Gladstone was able to look around. He was in a city with wooden and brick buildings, all low, with old fashioned lettered signs. Everyone around him looked like they came out of a movie, in dresses with bustles and tophats. There was in intensity in the air, a bustle, like everyone was moving with purpose towards the mountains beyond, ready to dig out the gold just under their feet. 

“If everyone is ready, I’ll hail a taxi,” Connie said, stepping into full view of the street.

“When we get to the club, you should have some water,” Paris said.

“Really, I’m ok,” Gladstone lied, head still pounding. “Where’s everyone’s sense of adventure? Let’s go!” 

-

The hotel was only three stories and had a flat roof. It was by no means fancy but looked as well kept as Gladstone figured the owners could manage. As the two cats and goose walked up to the door, a horse attached to a carriage whinnied at them.

The inside was furnished nicely and very populated. Young women stood chattering with other guests, a waiter even serving refreshments. Connie checked in with the receptionist, but Gladstone was more interested in the girls standing around, hiding their coy smiles behind silken fans. 

“What kind of place is this?” Gladstone asked.

“By day, these girls entertain the important, rich guests. By night, they dance. All in this hotel,” Paris said.

“Oh yeah?”

“It’s, y’know, pay to play. Lady Whitewater runs a tight ship.”

“Follow me,” the receptionist said, leading the little group away from the parlor and down a set of stairs. The large room below had a short stage with lights around it, a pair of ducks with a banjo and guitar rehearsing something while a few maids dusted around, checking the tables and putting down chairs. They walked further still to the left of the stage. The receptionist rapped twice on the door.

A beautiful siamese cat opened the door, dressed in a delicate light blue dress and dainty lace gloves. She looked older, in her fifties, but so poised and elegant it barely mattered. 

“I’m pleased that you made the journey in one peice,” she said in a calm voice with an accent Gladstone placed to China, though it was hardly noticeable. “Come in, have a drink. Is this Mr. Gander?”

“Oh,” Gladstone said quickly, “yes, and I take it you are Lady Whitewater?”

“Yes,” Lady Whitewater said, gesturing for everyone to take a seat around the mahogany desk. The receptionist respectfully closed the door and wandered back to the stage. “Usually I have a boy for this, but what’s your fancy? I have bourbon in the glass back there.”

“Oh, bourbon’s fine,” Connie said. “We’ll all take one.”

The older cat went to pouring, turned away from the group. Connie took some papers out of her purse, ready to read the files. 

“Anything to report, or should I go first?” the Irish cat asked.

Lady Whitewater sighed. “Nothing more than usual. We had an older gentleman from 2006, he said, in the town square causing a ruckus, but it was a small mess to clean up. It’s all been quiet on that front.”

“We had a break in and a theft of a time machine. It was some kid with a leather jacket and big goggles, and we thought he might come through here, but it sounds like he didn’t.”

The Lady shook her head, sipping daintily. “Not that I know of, but I’ll remind the marshall to keep an eye out.” She turned to examine Gladstone through icy blue eyes. “And you? Are you enjoying your journey?”

“Oh, very much,” he answered, which wasn’t a lie. Gladstone had come by the money he owed to Scrooge, finding a good chunk of it as a reward for a prize winning dog, and earning the other through his paycheck. And yet, he hadn’t quit. The work wasn’t hard, he got along swimmingly with his housemates, and he wanted to win the bet with himself that he could sleep with Paris, figure out her mystery. 

“There’s a lot to explore,” Lady Whitewater agreed, but Gladstone couldn’t tell if she was still talking about time travel. “Will you all stay tonight? My girls are always pleased to entertain.”

“Don’t have anything better to do,” Paris chimed in.

“If you’d all like to stay, I’ll go catch up with the marshall and go home early,” Connie said. “Shall we explore the town before the festivities begin?”

-

Too many layers of fabric were in the way, but Gladstone could still feel the soft waist of the girl he was holding, just finished dancing. A new wave of entertainers were enjoying the lively music and low lights up on stage. He had a pleasant buzz going, a pretty girl on his arm, and hours in a time where no one knew him. He spun the girl around, feeling her come crashing back into him and holding her close.

Paris was at the bar, chatting with some other guests excitedly. For a moment, the pair locked eyes, with her quickly blushing and looking away. Gladstone looked a moment longer, then kissed the girl in his arms, once again feeling Paris’s eyes on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a while to get out, but I'm really exited for this new setting and all the characters to meet! The plot's really picking up now. Talk to me on Tumblr @Timetales au.


	10. Paris

It was late by the time Paris got home. She had to wait for Gladstone to finish saying goodbye to his dancer friend. Paris knew his type, even if he did live in the same time as her, there’s no way he would follow up.

That wasn’t her problem, though. All that mattered now was having a hot shower and finding something to watch on TV before she inevitably fell asleep on the couch. Hours later, however, she was still in her room reading. 

An excited knocking on the door made her put the book down.

“Yeah?”

“You’ll never guess,” Felix said.

“No, I bet I wouldn’t,” she agreed. “But it’s three in the morning.”

“And you’re still up. Come on, to the basement. Remember the break in a couple nights ago? Well, the kid came back.”

“No shit?”

“Yeah, he’s here. Cham opened the door, and he confessed he was wrong or something. Who knows why. Anyway, he’s in lockdown right now. He only wants to talk to Gladstone.”

“He did last time, too.”

“Right.”

The pair entered the basement, stopping in front of the main investigation room. Chamomile was guarding the door, a formality incase of accomplices, which Paris doubted he had. “Connie ran up to make coffee. I guess we’ll see what Gladstone says.” 

The debrief happened in the morning. Gladstone had uncovered that Dewey was still lost from a parallel universe. The time machine he had stolen was gone, not on him and claiming he had no idea where it could be. 

“We should keep him in questioning,” Cham decided. “He’ll come around.”

“Sure, but we can’t have that machine missing. If the FBI gets ahold of this news, we’ll never hear the end of it,” Connie sighed, rubbing her eyes. “There’s work to do today, guys. Felix and I have to go in the early 2000s to give back some jewelry.”

“That’s still on?” he asked.

“Sorry, yes. I know that nobody here slept last night, but you’ll have plenty of time to nap when you get home. Cham, you stay here with Dewey. The door is locked and you shouldn’t have any trouble.”

“What about me?” Paris interjected. 

“Actually, I have a job for you and Gladstone.” The goose perked up at the mention of his name. “The sixties, Moscrow.” Paris’s stomach dropped. The last time she had been there, it had ended in tears. “There’s a statue that needs to be returned to the museum there and it should be very easy.”

“If it’s so easy then why don’t you do it?” Paris asked, leaning back and crossing her arms. 

“Because you speak russian and I don’t.”

“You speak russian?” Gladstone asked.

“Conversationally,” Paris answered. “I can’t read or write it, but it’s ok to ask for directions and shit.”

“I’m pretty good with languages too,” Gladstone offered, but she ignored him. 

Connie smiled. “Fantastic! You two should be ready to leave in an hour. And Felix, you too. I’ll print out some files to get you ready.”

-

Paris and Gladstone met in the basement. They were arriving in spring, but Moscrow always carried a chill, so Paris had on a big fur coat over a dress and pearls with gloves. The only change for Gladstone was that he had on a black suit instead of green. He had the little statue in an inside pocket of his suit, wrapped in paper.

“Ready to go?” she asked, unenthused. 

“Yeah.” He glanced over at her, then fiddled with his watch. “Alright, Sparky?”

Paris frowned. “Sparky?” Didn’t her dad used to call her that?

“I think it fits you,” Gladstone grinned. 

“That one’s better for Felix, he’s the one with all the machines, and…” Paris gestured vaguely. “Sparks.”

“Ok, Sparky, whatever you say.”

“I’m ready to go,” Paris snapped.

“You know, I really can’t tell why you’re so pissed off all the time.”

“I don’t want to go to Moscrow, and it really isn’t your business.”

Gladstone frowned. “We have to work together, even if you don’t like me. There’s a reason people meet, you know.”

“I’m not into you!” Paris yelled, though she really wasn’t sure. “Fate, all that, it’s bullshit.”

She hated to look at him, the cool, smug, look on his face despite being verbally attacked. “You can believe what you want, but I believe it was lucky I met you.”

“Lay off!” she snapped. “You have your type, first of all, and you don’t need to fuck with me! And luck, that’s shit too. You have a reputation, and it’s all true. You’re spoiled and careless and selfish, just like it says in the gossip column. I need this job, I need money, but to you it’s just another little adventure and a way to impress girls. That luck of yours gives you everything you want.”

“Ok. Anything else you need to get out of your system? You should talk to my ex-girlfriends, I think you’d find you have a lot of similar opinions. I don’t want to be here with you either, but I don’t have much of a choice.”

“Oh, please, you always have a choice! Just leave, everything you need lands at your feet!”

“What about the statue, Catnip? It’s in my coat. Do you want to go to Moscrow alone? I know all about you, Paris, you wouldn’t go there because the girl you almost married lives there, and you can’t bear to be second best.”

Paris’s blood froze. How did he know about Tori? Someone must have told him. Felix, maybe… but that wasn’t anyone’s business but her’s. 

“You two aren’t gone yet?” They both turned to see Cham in the doorway, munching on a doughnut. “Get out before Connie finds you, she’ll rip into you.” Paris didn’t even look at Gladstone, pressing the buttons on her time machine and leaving for Moscrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys know the drill, find me on Tumblr @timetalesau


End file.
